Heather Brager is a critically acclaimed juggler of calamity, an accomplished procrastinator, and shuffler of idioms. Her poetry and drawings can be found in various digital and print journals around the globe, and on the web. She currently resides in New England and prefers the precipice of where the Atlantic meets the sand to the official looking office where she spends most of her time.

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The grand kids took a trip. While they were away, my dog had no one to play with during the daylight hours. Yesterday, I heard him barking, and upon investigation, saw that he was debating a very large turtle. I considered moving this ten pound turtle, but to where? And, there was not much I could do to deter an eighty pound dog. And, I was about to be late for a meeting. I left them alone, figuring they would work things out without an audience.

This morning, I stepped out, and in the gravel driveway saw what was left of the turtle. I hated it happened. My first thought was to move the remains before the grand kids came back home. As I got closer to the turtle, I realized this was not a turtle. It was the kid's favorite playground ball, or what was left of it, after the dog took it to task. Now, I had a different dilemma. As I was picking up the evidence to discard, wouldn't you know, here came the grand kids, earlier than expected. If they noticed the deflated shell of their flattened ball, they did not acknowledge. They also barely greeted me, as they rushed past, to meet the dog, halfway.

Kids have a way of prioritizing, you know. Theirs was a grand reunion. I tossed to remnants of the orb, and went on my way, knowing that, at least for a little while, all things were in order.